Bound By Blood
by BayBeBlue
Summary: Just when Peter and Neal have reached a new level of trust, they will have to rely on each other in new ways. They will each have to expect the unexpected from the other. And with Peters parents coming to visit in the middle of everything, will John lose his trust in Neal or will he become the rock for both Neal and Peter when they need him most? Also Neal/Alex
1. Chapter 1

This is a sequel to my story A Brothers Search, so if you have not read that on yet you may not fully understand everything that is happening in this one. I highly recommend reading the first one to follow this one.

Hope you guys enjoy this one as much as the first one. I do plan on this story line with Neal and Peter being brothers to be a series with several shorter stories to follow this same line. If I write a story that does not fit in this series I will make not of that at the beginning of the story.

Again as always I own nothing. And I love suggestions and reviews.

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Chapter One: The Call that Changed it All

Neal extended his arms over his head and arched his spine as he stretched his back muscles. It was amazing at how a little thing such as a stretch in the morning could feel so refreshing. He took in a deep breath and walked out to his balcony that overlooked the New York streets below. He loved this view. It was one of the best views in New York, and it was his thanks to the wonderful June.

The street noise below was considerably less busy due to it being Sunday Morning. Most people were in their homes enjoying their day off. Much like Neal. He took in a deep breath and absorbed the morning air into his lungs. He could smell bacon in the air from a vendor just below his balcony selling food from his street cart. Probably one of the few people in the city that worked on Sunday.

Suddenly Neal's cell phone rang from the kitchen table. He turned around and stared at the vibrating object. He pondered ignoring it and just letting it go to voice mail, but then he chuckled to himself as he thought about how likely it was to be Peter, and if he did not answer Peter would most assuredly either pull up his tracking anklet data, or show up at his door step. This was not due to him not trusting Neal but more due to the close calls they had the past several months with Keller, Keller's brother, and then Greg and that man Greg owed the money to, Peter had become? Well for the lack of a better word, over-protective. But Neal was pleased to have that problem with Peter versus the lack of trust issue they used to struggle so often with. To be perfectly honest Neal had begun to feel that same sense of over-protectiveness towards Peter and El. They were now his family and he would never let anyone harm them.

He reached down and lifted the phone. It wasn't Peter. And he didn't recognize the phone number. He frowned and blinked as he stared at the foreign number displayed across the screen. He wasn't expecting any phone calls today. He always felt slightly panicked when his phone rang and it was not Peter or Mozzie, because it could be someone from his past life calling and threatening or tempting him back into the world of crime, the life of a conman. He feared how easy it might be to rekindle his desire for that life, the life of prestige, wealth, and the opportunity to be someone else. But he began to remember why it was he loved that life so much. It was because he had nothing to live for in his own life. He had nothing as Neal Caffrey, but when he became someone else, he had whatever he wanted. But that was then, that was a long time ago. Now he had a family he cared deeply about, he had friends, he even had a respectable job, and an amazing home with incredible views. So why would he be tempted to become someone else when everything he had now was real? He wouldn't. He lifted the phone to his ear as he pressed the answer button. "Hello."

There was silence on the other end. He could hear background noise but there was no voice replying.

He just listened. He did not request for a reply. He waited. Several long seconds passed.

"Neal Caffrey?" Asked a man in a low deep voice, but Neal did not recognize it.

Neal blinked and hesitated to reply but his curiosity got the better of him. "Who is this?"

"A friend." Again the unfamiliar voice spoke.

"Does this friend have a name?" Neal sounded on edge. His guard was up, he was careful of what he would say to this strange person.

"Dawson, Markus Dawson." The man on the other end also seemed careful of what he revealed to Neal.

"I don't know that name, and I know my friends names. So you're not my friend. How did you get this number?"

Despite the fact that Neal could not see the man, he could hear in his voice and his uneven breathing he was smiling.

"What? You think you're impossible to track down? Let's just say I have my connections. Look you may not know me, but I know you, and we're not enemies. We have a lot more in common than you realize."

Neal frowned. "How about you tell me who exactly you are and let me be the judge of that?"

"I'm not a complete idiot Neal. I know you work for the FBI. Let's just take this slow for now until I know I can trust you."

"What do you want?" Neal's voice held a certain apprehension as he asked the question.

"I need your help with something. I'm in over my head and someone told me you were the person I should talk to."

"I'm sorry I can't help you, I gave up that life. Not to mention the fact that I have no clue who you are so I have no reason to even want to help you."

"I'm willing to pay you."

"I don't want your money, and I don't need your money. Goodbye." Neal began to pull the phone away from his ear when he heard the man reply.

"I'd hate for anything bad to happen to Alex over this."

Neal swallowed hard. He returned the phone to his ear. His breathing had slowed. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, Alex is the one that put me in contact with you. She seems quite taken by you."

"Where is she?" Neal demanded.

"Oh don't worry about her, she's fine. At least for now she is."

"If you lay a hand on her I swear…." Neal trailed off as he thought about the horror of someone harming her.

"Well now that all depends on you."

Neal pressed his lips together and his teeth clenched forcing his jaw muscles to ripple beneath the skin. "What do you want?" His words hissed through his teeth.

"It's simple really. I need a replica of a Degas by Thursday."

"I can't finish a Degas that soon."

"Well I guess that's bad news for Alex then isn't it?"

Neal closed his eyes tight. His fingers curled into his fist casting his knuckles in white. "If I'm going to do this, I need more information than what you've given me."

"There's a white envelope taped to the bottom of the bench for you at the corner of Maple and Garland St. That's within your two mile radius. You'll find everything you need in there. I'll contact you again on Wednesday for further instructions. Just make sure the painting is ready by Thursday."

Neal took a deep breath. "How do I know you're telling the truth? How do I know Alex is really in danger?"

"Just get the envelope. You'll find all the proof you need in it. Oh and Neal. If you involve the FBI, there won't be anything left of Alex for the police to find." The line went dead.

Neal pulled the phone from his ear and slammed it down on the table. He dropped his head as he leaned over the table with his arms bracing himself against the table top. He was angry, but he was more worried about Alex and her safety. He had not heard from her in more than a year. He wondered if she had gotten involved with this Dawson person and it was turning bad, or if he turned on her. He knew she had never been able to give up the life, and he knew she probably never would. He always warned her to be careful with whom she teamed up with, because even a con could be conned.

He quickly dressed and as he walked out the door he slipped on his fedora. The corner of Maple and Garland was rather close actually. It only took him a few minutes to get there. Once he arrived he quickly spotted the only bench in the area. He casually walked over to the bench and looked around for anyone that seemed out of place or suspicious. But no one seemed to stand out to him.

He sat down on the bench and using his right hand he felt beneath him until he located the envelope. He pulled on it and the tape that secured it in place ripped free. Again he looked around to make sure no one was watching him. Once he was sure he was in the clear he stood to his feet and walked back to his apartment.

Inside he quickly opened the envelope. As he pulled the contents out a small photo floated to the floor. It captred his attention so he swooped down and picked it up from the floor. It was a picture of Alex, her wrists and ankles were bound with rope. Silver duct tape was spread across her mouth. Her eyes looked terrified. The confidence she normally had in her composure and in her gaze was missing.

Neal swallowed, he blinked. He sat the picture down on the table and then lifted the papers he removed from the envelope. The first page was instructions that informed him of the quality Dawson wanted in this forgery. It had to pass a museum inspection. That was almost impossible, at least for most it would be. Neal had created many forgeries that had to pass a museum inspection, but never in such a short period of time as what Dawson was requesting. He pulled the second page to the front. It was a picture of the Degas Painting he was to forge.

There was a knock at the door. He quickly folded the papers and slide them back into the envelope and placed the envelope beneath a book that was resting on the table.

He walked over and opened the door fully prepared to charm his way out of any suspicion should it be Peter that was standing there. It was Mozzie. Neal sighed in relief and pushed the door open allowing Mozzie to enter.

Mozzie could sense the relief in Neal's voice. "I take it you're happy it's me instead of a certain suit?"

Neal walked back to the table and lifted the book from the envelope. He handed the picture of Alex to Mozzie.

Mozzie stared at the picture and his face drew into a frown. He looked back at Neal. "Who sent this Neal?"

Neal handed the papers from the envelope to him. "Some guy named Dawson called me this morning and told me if I don't make a forgery of this painting by Thursday he'll hurt Alex."

Mozzie looked at the picture of the Degas. He furrowed his brow. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know." Neal pulled his hands up and ran his fingers through his hair as he began to pace.

"Do you think this guy is serious?"

"Yeah. I do. He told me if I involve the FBI there wouldn't be anything left of Alex for the police to find. He sounded like he meant it."

"It's going to take a lot of work to get this painting done by Thursday Neal. Especially to pass a museum inspection."

"Yeah Mozzie, I know that."

"Do you think you can do it?"

Neal looked down at the picture of Alex as he took it from Mozzie's hand. He frowned, "I can, but I don't know if I will."

"What? Neal this is Alex we're talking about. You can't seriously be thinking about not doing it."

Neal nodded his head. "No, that's not what I mean. I'll do whatever I can for her. But I think I have to tell Peter."

"No Neal you can't. He told you what would happen if you involve the FBI."

"I'm not going to involve the FBI. I'm going to involve my brother."

"Neal, they're one in the same. Peter can't be Peter without the FBI."

"Look Mozz. Peter and I made both agreed there would be no more secrets between us. I have to tell him. And I think if I do, he will trust me and help me save Alex without involving the FBI."

Mozzie shook his head. "This I a bad idea Neal."

Neal walked over to the door and slipped on his Fedora. He looked back at Mozzie. "Maybe. But I made a promise to Peter, and I have to keep it. I have to have faith in him, that he will put family ahead of his job."


	2. Chapter 2 - Not Like Neal

This chapter takes an unusual turn. But there is a plot I have worked out that I think you will all like. Hope you enjoy.

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Chapter Two: Not like Neal

Elizabeth was putting away the dishes after her and Peter finished their breakfast when she heard a knock at the door. She picked up a dish rag that was lying on the counter and dried her hands. Another knock rapped on the door harder and louder. "Coming." She called out.

She opened the door and smiled when she saw Neal standing in the entrance with his charcoal gray fedora hat. He had on black slacks with a white button front shirt, the cuffs were rolled up to the elbow and the top two buttons undone. He always looked stylish, even when he didn't seem to try.

She pushed the door open and motioned for him to enter. "Neal, sorry but you're a little late for breakfast." The kindness in her voice made him smile despite the troubles weighing heavily on his mind.

He walked inside and respectfully removed his hat. "Thanks El, but I actually came to talk with Peter, is he here?"

"He took Satchmo for a walk, but he should be back any minute. Is everything okay Neal, you look upset about something." For some reason Neal felt slightly put off about Peter not being there. Normally it would be no big deal, but for some strange reason, today it was.

Neal took in a deep breath; he looked down at the gray hat in his hands and exhaled slowly. "I am upset. That's why I need to talk to Peter." He could feel this strange feeling building inside him. He was angry. He thought it must be because of the threat to Alex's life. What else could it be.

Elizabeth's eyes became filled with worry, her smile vanished. "You know Neal, you could talk to me if you like."

Neal's head slowly raised, his eyes met with hers. He held quiet. He wondered if he should talk to her. He wondered if he could. He swallowed and glanced back at the door where he knew Peter would walk through at some point. He could wait and talk to Peter. He had grown close to Peter over the past few months, but had he grown that close to Elizabeth? Close enough to share something so personal, something so dangerous with her?

Elizabeth just watched him. She could tell he was bothered but he also looked slightly angry. She could also tell he was reluctant to confide in her. More than anything she wanted him to feel at ease with her. To feel secure enough to let her into his world he now seemed to include Peter in. She waited. The choice was his to make, she could not pressure him for fear it would only push him farther away.

He turned back to face her. He stared into her eyes for several long seconds. He decided to tell her, it might ease this odd rage he could feel growing withinhim. "I don't know what to do El." His soft voice spoken barley above a whisper broke the silence.

She gently reached out and placed her hand on his arm. "It's okay Neal. We can figure it out, you just have to talk."

He took another breath and his eyes closed tight. His eyes suddenly sprung open revealing his vibrant blue irises. "Someone called me today and is threatening to harm Alex if I don't forge a Degas for them by Thursday." He said it. He let her in.

She felt relief that he did, but at the same time his words sent a panic through her body. She licked her lips. She tried to hide her terror from him. He was probably overwhelmed with those emotions on his own, he did not need to see them mirrored in her as well. She needed to be strong for him. "Who was it that made the threat?"

"Someone by the name of Marcus Dawson."

"Do you know him?"

"No. I've never even heard that name before."

"Okay how do you know that Alex is really in trouble then?"

"This was in the envelope he left for me." He handed her the picture of Alex bound with rope lying on a damp concrete floor."

She took the photo from his hand and stared at it in disbelief. Her breath hitched in her throat as she looked at the frightful image. "We have to tell Peter."

"I plan on telling him. But this Dawson guy warned me not to involve the FBI."

Elizabeth handed the picture back to Neal. "Neal you know Peter, he's going to take this on as a case."

"I was hoping he would do this one solo with me."

"Do you have any idea what you would be asking of him? Neal, he could be fired, you could get sent back to prison. You can't ask him to do that."

Neal furrowed his brow. He suddenly felt that anger that had been pestering to make its presence know, explode. He knew she was right, but hearing her say it infuriated him. He turned and placed his hand on the door knob. "You're right Elizabeth. Nothing has changed." He pulled the door open.

She reached out and gripped his arm. "Neal, you know that's not what I meant. Everything has changed."

He jerked his arm free from her grasp. "Just forget I was hear." He began walking down the stairs.

She rushed out behind him trying to stop him. "Neal, please. Don't go, not like this."

He ignored her and continued down the stairs and proceeded towards the street. Suddenly Peter appeared in front of him leading an excited Satchmo behind him. Peter smiled at first on seeing Neal, but it began to fade into a concerned frown when he realized Elizabeth was begging him not to go and he saw the anger and rage in Neal's eyes. He reached up and placed a hand on Neal's shoulder. "Whoa, what's going on here?"

"It's none of your business. Stay out of it." Neal snapped and stepped sideways to push past Peter.

Peter clenched his teeth. His fingers tightened digging into Neal's shoulder stopping him from moving. "Hold it. You don't talk to me like that. I think we need to go inside and have a little chat." Peter forceful spun Neal around to face the house again and he slipped one arm around Neal's shoulder in order to prevent him from escaping.

Neal clenched his teeth fighting his ever growing anger. He knew Peter would not let this one go. Peter began to push Neal back towards the house. He looked up at Elizabeth and saw the distress in her expression.

"Neal, I'm sorry." Her voice was soft and warm. The tone was saturated with sorrow.

As they walked into the house, Peter removed the leash from Satchmo's collar and dropped it onto the table beside the stairs. He looked at Neal and pointed with his finger towards the couch. "Sit down."

"Thanks but I think I'll stand." Neal's tone was harsh.

Peter's eyebrows rose. "I wasn't asking Neal."

Neal shrugged his shoulders.

Peter stepped forward directly in front of Neal. "Shrug you're shoulders at me again and I'll slap my cuffs on you." Peter sounded angry at the disrespect Neal was showing to not only to him, but to Elizabeth as well.

Neal's eyes dropped. He turned and walked into the living room and took a seat on the sofa.

Peter and Elizabeth followed. Peter placed his hands on his hips. "Now what the crap is going on here?"

"Nothing, it was a mistake, I shouldn't have come over." Neal glared at Elizabeth almost daring her to say something about what he had told her.

Peter saw the glare and he looked at Elizabeth. "El, could you enlighten me as to what happened here?"

She swallowed and looked from Peter back to Neal. She wanted to tell Peter, but she did not want to betray Neal's trust in her. It seemed it had already taken on enough damage in the last few minutes. "I can't. That has to come from Neal honey."

Peter looked back at Neal. "Alright then. Start talking Neal."

Neal stood to his feet. "I have somewhere I need to be right now."

"Sit down. You're not going anywhere until I know what's going on here." Peter demanded.

Neal raised his hands to his head and ran his fingers through his hair. "You can't keep me here." He was battling something inside himself. He wanted to leave, he needed to leave. He needed to go before he did something he would regret.

"You wanna bet?" Peter gave Neal a look that dared Neal to make a move to leave.

Neal began to feel that raging anger pulsing through his veins. He had never felt that kind of anger before. He tried to be reasonable; he could see that Peter and El were doing nothing wrong. He knew they were only concerned about him, they wanted to help. But still he felt his blood boiling with anger. He had been feeling this furry building in him since he left his apartment. The raw emotion of hatred and rage was becoming so intense he could hardly breathe. His fingers curled tightly into the palms of his hands and he squeezed them so tightly his nails pierced through his skin. Blood began to seep from the beneath his fingers. His fist began to shake from the muscles in his arms contracting so tightly.

Elizabeth and Peter both saw something change in Neal's eyes. Peter held his hand out and told Elizabeth, "Go upstairs El."

She quickly made her way to the staircase and began walking up, but she stopped and turned back around just in time to see Neal lunge towards Peter. His fist struck Peter in the jaw. Peter's head shot sideways and blood gushed from his mouth. He began to fall backwards but he braced himself against the staircase banister and as Neal was rushing towards him again he wrapped his arms around Neal and pinned his arms to his side.

Neal fought against Peter and he was strong. With one swift move he ripped his arms free from Peter's grasp and spun around striking Peter again in the face.

The blow stunned Peter and his vision went black. He staggered backwards and before he could regain his balance Neal bolted out the front door racing towards the street.

Elizabeth rushed down the stairs and slammed the door shut behind Neal bolting the dead bolt as quickly as she could. She turned and gently placed her hand on Peters arm. "Oh my goodness, Peter are you okay?"

Peter used the back of his hand and wiped at the blood dripping from his bloody nose. "What just happened?"

"I don't know, but that was not like Neal at all."

Peter sighed and looked up at his wife. Tears clung to her eyelashes. She was terrified. He embraced her in a hug. "It's okay honey. It'll be okay. I'll find out what's going on with Neal."

Slowly she pulled away and looked into his eyes. "He told me someone was threatening to harm Alex if he didn't create a forgery of some painting by Thursday. They also said they didn't want the FBI involved. Peter he came to tell you that but he wanted you to help him work the case solo, I told him he was asking too much and he went off. Neal has never shown anger like that. He's never been violent either, what is going on?"

Peter placed his hand on her head and sighed. "It's okay. I'll find out. He'll be okay." He feared he had just lied to her. The look he saw in Neal's eyes struck fear into him. The power he felt as Neal fought him was more than he knew Neal to be capable of. Something was wrong with Neal. He needed to find him and fast.


	3. Chapter 3 - Making the Right Call

Hope you enjoy this chapter. It's building :).

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Chapter Three: Making the Right Call

Neal felt beads of sweat began to fall down is face as he raced farther and farther away from Peter and El's house. It was a strange sensation due to the cool temperature of the early morning spring air. He did not feel hot; rather the moisture seeping from his skin was making him feel chilled. His breathing was rapid and heavy. He ran faster, harder, his stride was longer than he had ever ran before. He could feel his heart racing, pounding as if it were trying to beat its way out of his chest.

He was moving past people on the sidewalk so quickly they barely had time to remove themselves from his path. Just ahead of him there was a man opening a car door for a woman. His back was turned towards Neal, he did not see him coming. With the car door open it left little room for passing on the sidewalk. Neal had two options, he could stop and wait for the man to step aside, or he could shove him out of the way and continue on his mad dash to who knows where. Even Neal didn't know where he was going.

He never broke his stride. He raised his hands and planted them in the middle of the man's back. With momentum in his step he shoved the man and it knocked him to the ground. Neal leaped into the air clearing the man's legs.

The man shouted and looked at Neal as he raced by. "Neal?" He again called out. Neal heard the voice and he glanced back for a brief second. It was John, Peter's father. Carla was still in the car, she gasped in surprise.

Neal's eyes sprung open wider. He turned around and continued racing and dodging past people and obstacles along the sidewalk. He felt a desire to stop and help John back to his feet, but he felt a stronger need to flee. He had to get away. He was in a panic. Seeing John and Carla only made it worse for him. His mouth suddenly felt dry, really dry. Completely void of any moisture at all. It was strange, because now his skin was dry, there was no sweat. His breathing became labored, it weakened, he was running out of breath. He needed to find a place to rest. He had to stop running. He looked ahead of him for a place he could hide; somewhere he could feel safe and be alone.

He spotted an abandoned business. The windows were boarded up. A foreclosure sign was on the door. He ran down the alley to the back door. He quickly looked around for anything he might be able to use to pick the lock. His vision began to blur slightly. His eyes felt dry. He blinked and his eyelids felt like sand paper as they raked across his eyes. He closed them again and held them tightly and gently shook his head. He opened them; his vision was a little better. He spotted an old wire coat hanger lying behind a red dumpster at the end of the alley. He retrieved it and worked with it as he tried to straighten it as much as possible.

He walked back to the door and squatted low, he began to work the hanger into the edge of the door. He normally could have this door unlocked in a matter of seconds, but he was struggling this time. His hands began to tremble. They ached. He tightened them into a fist trying to steady them, trying to dispel the uncontrollable trembling. He began working with the hanger again to unlock the door. Suddenly the door sprung open. He rose and rushed inside.

He tried to calm his breathing, it was uneven. One breath would be deep and heavy while the next was shallow and light. His throat felt dry, swallowing became difficult. He put his back against the wall and slowly he slid down the wall until he came to rest on the cold concrete floor. His hands rested against his knees holding his head up. He wanted to scream, he wanted to hit something or someone. He had. He hit Peter. He felt his breathing hitch in his chest. A lump began to form in his throat. Why did he hit Peter? Peter had not done anything to deserve that. What was wrong with him? He wanted to cry but his eyes were so dry his sobs were only noises.

He couldn't face Peter. Not after what he had done to him. How could he have done something so horrible? He could only picture the disappointed look on Peter and El's faces. And John, he shoved John to the ground. What was going on? Had he lost his mind? Peter would never forgive him. He couldn't go back. But Peter could find him. He looked down at his anklet. He tried to swallow but there was no saliva to go down. The anklet, it was the only thing that linked Peter and him together. He saw scissors lying beside a lamp on the desk in front of him. He stood and stared at them.

Slowly he reached out and wrapped his fingers around the handles. He held them in front of his face. If he did this there was no going back. This would be the end.

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John pushed himself up from the cement as he watched Neal disappear around the corner. He extended his hand to help his wife out of the car.

Carla was shocked at what she had just seen. "John what if something is wrong at Peter and El's."

John realized she might be right. He frowned. "Stay here, I'll check it out."

He walked as quickly as he could but after one step he had a sharp pain pierce him in his ankle. He knew he had sprained it. He tried to walk as quickly as the pain would allow. He made it to the stairs just outside of his son's home. He reached down and turned the knob but the door was locked. He knocked loud and hard.

Elizabeth was afraid it was Neal. She looked out of the peep hole and saw John. Suddenly the door sprang open. "John, what are you doing here?"

John was pleased to see that she looked fine. "We came to visit, is everything okay El? We just saw Neal running down the street in some kind of mad frenzy."

She frowned and looked back at Peter who just walked into the entry. His jaw beginning to bruise where Neal's tightly closed fist had struck him only moments ago.

John's eyebrows rose at the sight of his son's battered face. "Peter what on earth happened to you?"

Peter tried to smile. "I'm okay dad."

"Who did this to you?" John demanded.

Peter frowned and looked down at the floor. He didn't want to say. He didn't want it to change his father's view of Neal. He had finally accepted him and he knew how sensitive John was, he feared this news would change everything.

John could tell by the look in his eyes, he knew who did it. "Neal did this didn't he?"

The only reply Peter gave was an all telling expression.

John closed his eyes. He had disappointment written all over his face.

Peter had to defend Neal. "He wasn't himself dad. I don't know what was wrong, but this is not like Neal."

John sighed and looked at Elizabeth then back to Peter. "I know. Do you think he's on drugs or something?"

"No! Neal would never do that, he's too smart for that." Peter replied quickly and convincingly.

"Okay, then what are we going to do about it?" John requested.

Peter looked back at his laptop lying on the dining room table. "Find him."

"Then let's get started." John looked at Elizabeth and smiled. "El could you get Carla and let her know everything is okay. I told her to wait at the car."

Elizabeth nodded her head and walked past him and through the door.

John followed Peter as they walked to the table. Peter opened his laptop and pulled up the program that tracked Neal's anklet. They stared at the screen as they watched a small green dot moving down Harvard St. Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "Well he's not too far away yet. Looks like he's still moving."

John pulled one of the dining chairs out from under the table and sat down. "Are you going to call the police to pick him up?"

"No. We're going to wait and see where he's going, then I'll go get him myself."

Elizabeth walked in carrying two bags. Carla was behind her. She gasped when she saw her son's face. "Oh my, Peter."

"It's fine mom. It looks much worse than it is." Peter reached out and took the bags from his wife and sat them down on the floor beside the stairs.

He gave his mother a hug.

Elizabeth looked at the green dot on the computer screen. "Do you know where he is headed?"

"No, but I'll keep an eye on it." He looked back at the screen and paused for a few seconds. "Hon, did Neal by any chance tell you who it was that was threatening Alex?"

Elizabeth frowned as she tried to remember the name Neal mentioned. "Yeah, I think he said it was someone named Markus Dawson. But Neal said he didn't know him."

Peter turned his head slowly and looked at her. His brow furrowed. "What name did you just say?"

"Markus Dawson, why do you know him?" She replied.

Peter brought his hand up to his forehead and he rubbed just under his hairline. "Yeah, yeah I do. He doesn't exist."

"What? What do you mean he doesn't exist?" Elizabeth sounded confused.

"Markus Dawson is one of the aliases I use when I work undercover with the FBI." Peter pressed his lips and rested his hands on his hips.

"Why would someone use that name then?" Elizabeth frowned.

"It's to send a message to me. Neal doesn't know about that alias. I set it up in the event I needed it to hunt Neal down again if he ever ran."

"Peter it looks like Neal has stopped." John pointed to the screen on the laptop at a now stationary green dot.

Peter spun around and looked closer at the screen.

"Where is he?" Carla asked as she looked over Peter's shoulder.

"I don't know. But I'm going to get him." Peter walked over to the table next to the door and picked up his handcuffs and his gun holster with his gun secured within it.

Elizabeth frowned. "Peter is that really necessary? Do you have to take those?"

"You saw what state he was in when he left hon. I'm not taking any chances. I'm bringing him back even if I have to do it with him kicking and screaming."

"I'm going with you." John stood to his feet.

"No dad. I can't ask you to do that. He's my responsibility I'll take care of it."

"Rubbish. He's part of this family now so he's as much my responsibility as he is yours. I'm coming and there's nothing you can to do stop me."

Peter smiled. He was happy to hear that this had not changed his feelings about Neal.

"Um, Peter, what does it mean when the green dot disappears?" Carla was still staring at the screen.

Peter narrowed his eyes and moved closer to the laptop. "What do you mean mom?" He instantly saw a map with no location dot anywhere on it. His hands quickly came up and his fingers laced through his hair. "Dammit Neal, what is going on in your head."

Elizabeth frowned. "Honey what's wrong?" she could see the panic in her husband's face.

"Neal cut his anklet. He's going back to prison; there is nothing I can do for him now." Peter turned around and he kicked the edge of the sofa as he began to pace.

"Can you just not report it?" Elizabeth asked.

"No, it has nothing to do if I report it or not. The Marshalls will be calling me any minute to ask if I know where Neal is. I can't lie to them. If I cover for Neal I could be charged as an accessory to his escape. Damn you Neal, why are you putting me in this situation."

"Okay, let's calm down honey. What could you do to help Neal?" Elizabeth gently patted Peter on the back.

"Nothing El. I can't do anything for him now. He's taken this out of my hands. He's on his own."

"You don't mean that Peter. Come on, think. There has to be something we can do to help him." John stood in front of Peter and tried to hold his gaze, but Peter was freaking out, he was avoiding his father's eye contact.

"What am I supposed to do dad? I can't find him now that he's cut the anklet, and I'm sure I can't call him because if he cut the anklet I can guarantee you he's chunked his phone. He's running."

Suddenly Peter's cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and looked at the screen. It was the Marshall calling. He pressed his lips together and answered the phone. "Hello."

"Yeah this is Agent Burke….." He closed his eyes tight and took a deep breath. "No, he's with me. Sorry we are working undercover and we had to cut his anklet for the job… I know but I didn't have time to file the paperwork with your office. It was a last minute thing….. I'm sorry it won't happen again….. Yes we'll have the anklet back on by this evening… Thank you." He ended the call and dropped his phone onto the dining table beside the laptop. His teeth were clenched.

John raised his hands and placed them on Peter's shoulders. "You made the right call Peter. We'll find him by then."

Peter took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling. "We have to or else we could both be headed for jail."


	4. Chapter 4 - Dextro

So this chapter deals with some chemistry and medical stuff so since I don't know about either I just made it up. Hope it sounds okay.

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Chapter Four: Dextro

Neal felt the blades of the scissors slice through the anklet. The green light on the side turned red. He knew he couldn't stay where he was, as it was the last location the anklet transmitted data from. He had to leave. He couldn't go home, he couldn't go anywhere that the FBI or Peter could link back to him.

He let the anklet slip from his fingertips and fall to the ground. He stared at it as alarms sounded in his head. He knew he made a mistake. He knew he had just ruined every good thing in his life by the blades of those damn scissors. But there was no turning back; there was no changing the past. He still felt this rage of panic and anger pulsing through him with madness. He felt an urgency to run as far away from New York as he possibly could, it didn't matter how he got there, he just had to get away. His practical sense of judgment seemed to be gone, he was thinking irrationally, he was impulsive and yes, he was making poor choices, one after another. There was still this small part of him that knew everything he was doing was wrong, but he was acting out of emotion rather than common sense. He had never done that before.

Not only was his thinking haywire, but his muscles ached, his lungs burned as if they were starved for oxygen. His eyes and throat were dry and his hands trembled. He looked up and saw his reflection in a mirror hanging above the counter. He almost did not recognize his own reflection. His skin was pale, and not slightly pale, he looked as if death had visited him yesterday. He had dark circles wrapping his eyes, the type of circles you would see on a person that had not slept in days. He stared into the mirror as the strange unfamiliar reflection glared back at him. That was not him. It couldn't be. The man in the mirror looked terrifying. He took a step closer. It was him though. What happened to him? Why did he feel this way? Why did he look like a walking corpse? Something was wrong, something had happened to him. But what? When?

He quickly turned from the mirror. He was disgusted at what he saw. He felt his knees weaken as he turned and suddenly the room was spinning. He felt light headed and his vision began to darken, the sound of the street outside now became muffled. He felt his breathing weaken and his legs became limp, his body began to slump to the floor. He fought the darkness looming over him, threatening to tear him from the conscious world. His body came to rest against the concrete floor and his neck went slack dropping his head against the hard surface of the ground. He felt a slight thud and his eyes became heavy, he closed them.

"Grab his legs." Neal heard someone talking. He tried to force his eyes open but he could not make out who was there, his vision was too blurred. He wasn't even sure if he had heard them correctly. How many were there? He closed his eyes again. This felt like a dream.

His body was now completely limp. He couldn't lift his arms if he tried. He felt someone pull against his shoulders; it lifted his body from the cold floor. Another person lifted his legs at the knee. He could feel the weight of his body hanging against his shoulders and legs now, it felt so heavy. He again tried to open his eyes. They were talking but what they were saying Neal could not make out or could not understand due to his slipping in and out of consciousness. His head fell backwards and again his eyes drifted shut.

He heard a car door open. His eyes shot open at the abrupt sound. It was a van. Suddenly he felt his body drop against the floor of the vehicle. He wanted to talk, he wanted to ask who these people were and where they were taking him, but as he tried to speak nothing came, his lips did not even move. The van door closed. It was dark. His eyes drifted shut once again. He felt someone's breath against his neck, and then a voice spoke into his ear. "Took you long enough to cut the anklet kid."

Neal tried to pry his eyes open but with every passing minute it became a much more difficult task. He gave up trying.

Peter picked up his cell phone and dialed a phone number.

John watched closely not sure who he was calling.

Peter pressed his lips as he waited for an answer. It rang several times then went to voicemail.

"Mozzie this is Peter. Something is wrong with Neal I need to know if you have seen him. Call me back Please. He's cut his anklet." Peter ended the call. He knew Mozzie was not his biggest fan, but when it came to Neal and Neal's safety he knew Mozzie could set aside his distrust in him, he had done it before. He needed him to do it again.

"So what now?" John asked.

Peter looked down at the laptop. "Now we go check the last place we know he was for sure. I know he won't be there but maybe he left some evidence that will give us a clue as to where he went."

John followed Peter to the front door. Elizabeth reached out and gripped Peter by the arm. "Peter, be careful."

Peter smiled at her. "I will."

They arrived at the small building with the foreclosure noticed on the front door. Peter looked around the front of the building. He knew somewhere in that area was Neal's last known location. He looked inside the window but saw nothing to give him reason to believe Neal had been inside the building. He walked around the corner and headed down the alley. He saw the side door to the building cracked open. He pulled his gun from its holster and looked back at his father. "Wait here Dad."

John nodded his head and waited just outside of the door.

Peter swung the door open and held the gun in front of him as he walked into the dark building. He looked around and instantly his eyes were drawn to the scissors lying on the ground next to Neal's inactive tracking anklet. He quickly cleared the room and as soon as he was satisfied no one was there he called to his father. "It's clear Dad."

Peter bent down and picked up the anklet and held it in his hand. "Why did you do it Neal?" he asked under his breath.

John walked in and looked at the anklet grasped between Peter's fingers. He frowned. "Any idea where he would have gone?"

Peter only stared at the anklet in his hand as he gently shook his head. His expression said more than any words could say. He had no idea where to look, and that terrified him.

Peter's phone began to ring. He jumped as the sound and vibration ripped him from his thoughts. He quickly pulled the phone from his pocket. He looked at his father just before he answered the phone. "It's Mozzie!" He lifted the phone to his ear. "Mozzie have you seen Neal?"

"Yes I saw him this morning. Why would he cut his anklet?" Mozzie asked.

"He came to my house today and went off. He hit me twice and then took off. He was acting crazy. He wasn't himself at all. He almost…" Peter paused he wasn't exactly sure what he was going to say, until he said it. "He seemed like he had been drugged or something."

"I'll call you back." Mozzie pressed the end button as he could hear Peter trying to stop him in his effort to get more information.

Mozzie walked over to Neal's dining table and looked down at the envelope Neal had removed the picture of Alex and the instructions for the forgery. He stared at it for a few seconds. Suddenly he spun around and walked into the closet where the two way mirror was that looked out into the apartment. He pulled a box Neal kept hidden beneath his suits. He opened the box and pulled a pair of latex gloves out as well as a cotton mask.

He walked into the kitchen and bent down as he rummaged through the cleaning supplies Neal kept beneath the sink. He lifted a bottle of alcohol and ainegar, then in the basket behind the cleaning supplies he removed two q-tips and a small metal mixing bowl. He walked back to the table where the envelope sat. He slipped on the gloves, and then he placed the cotton mask over his nose and mouth.

He created a mixture in the bowl with the alcohol and vinegar. He lifted the envelope and using his pocket knife he began scraping at the seal of the envelope. A powder began to develop as the blade scraped against the paper. He dropped the powder into the bowl. He picked the bowl up and walked over to the stove. He sat the bowl down on one of the burners and then turned it on high. He waited. It took several minute before the liquid began to boil. He watched as the boiling liquid began to thicken. He turned the stove off and removed the bowl.

He filled the kitchen sink with cold water and sat the bowl into the water bath. Instantly the liquid began to form a thick gel like substance. He closed his eyes and frowned. Quickly he removed the bowl from the water and after he located a large trash bag and tossed the bowl and its contents into the bag. He tied it into a tight knot then placed another bag over that one repeating the process two more times. Once he felt the chemicals were safely disposed of he removed the gloves carefully so as not to touch them against his skin, and placed them and the cotton mask into another trash bag.

He pulled his cell phone out and dialed Peter's phone number.

"Yeah." Peter answered.

"Peter, Neal was drugged." Mozzie sounded anxious.

"With what?"

"It's called Dextropaline, also known as Dextro. It's a drug used to stimulate the aggression sensors in the brain. It's a powder. If you inhale any or get enough on your skin it can cause extreme violence, irrational behavior, panic, anxiety, and eventually it will leave the victim unconscious. I found it on the envelope that Neal received the picture of Alex from. There was just enough on there to affect him if he got it on his skin. It didn't transfer to the contents of the envelope that's why it did not affect me when I handled the picture or the letters."

"So Neal could be somewhere unconscious?" Peter was now beginning to sound worried.

Mozzie sighed. "Yeah, he could be."

"How long until the affects wear off?"

"It depends on how much of the drug got into his system. Could be a few hours to a few days."

"Crap."

"Due to the amount I found on the envelope, I doubt he received enough to last very long. My best guess is he could be back to himself within the next twenty four hours or so. But then again that's just a guess."

Peter grumbled under his breath. He knew Mozzie had done his best but he also knew that wasn't going to help them find Neal before this evening. And if they did not find Neal soon, the Marshalls would discover the truth and would put out an arrest warrant for both Neal and himself.


	5. Chapter 5 - Flesh and Blood

New twist to the story. Hope you enjoy. Love you're reviews :)

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Chapter Five: Flesh and Blood

Neal slowly began to open his eyes. His head was throbbing. He could feel every beat from his heart as it rushed blood through his veins. His ears had a dull ringing within them that only added to his discomfort. His vision was slightly blurred and he began to squint his eyes trying to see through the haze. He was lying on a bed.

He carefully sat up and twisted on the bed dropping his feet to the floor. The movement felt so abrupt it resulted in a spinning sensation making him feel dizzy and rather nauseous. He quickly brought his hands up to cradle his head in an attempt to steady the quaint feeling, when he felt a stinging sensation in the palms of his hands. He closed his eyes tightly for a few seconds then dropped his hands and spread his fingers open to get a better look at the cause of the pain he was feeling. He noticed four small cuts running along the palms of each of his hands. He frowned as he looked at them. What had caused that? Slowly he curled his fingers in towards his palms and he became shocked as he realized the wounds on his hands matched up to his own finger nails. What happened? His mind felt foggy. He was remembering only fragments. It was like trying to see the picture on a puzzle using only a handful of the puzzle pieces. Carefully he rubbed at his eyes with his fingers and thumb. Suddenly the pieces of that puzzle began flying into place. Completing the horrifying picture. He began to remember everything. Alex was in danger, Peter, John, his anklet, he had cut his anklet. He felt a gasp escape his lips as the realization of his new reality started to sink in. He wanted to forget, oh how he wanted to forget. He felt a panic fall over him. Regret. Confusion. Why would he have done those things? His face contorted into a glower of anguish and despair.

Suddenly words he heard spoken at some point riveted through his mind. "Took you long enough to cut the anklet kid." His frown began to soften as he worked out more details of what happened to him. He had been taken from the abandoned building by someone. There was a van. His head raised and he noticed his vision had begun to clear. He glanced around the room.

The ceilings were tall, at least ten foot tall. Windows and doors stood from floor to ceiling overpowering the small room. The bed was clothed in white silk sheets with a white down comforter blanketing it. The glossy rich cherry wood floors stretched across the room and disappeared beneath the towering solid mahogany door. Neal stood and walked over to the window on the opposite side of the bed. What he thought was a window was double French doors that opened up to a balcony with an amazing view of Central Park. The setting sun cast an beautiful orange glow to the New York skyline. Long white sheer curtains hung alongside each of the pane glass doors. He swallowed. The room was the epitome of luxury.

He heard the door behind him gently and softly creek on its hinges as it opened. The sound of soft classical music filtered into the room as the door stood open. Neal turned to face who had entered. Who was responsible for his condition? Who had taken him without his consent?

His eyes met with a man close to his own height. He looked to be in his late fifties. His hair was slivery and thick, it looked perfectly in place. The silver from his hair only emphasized his deep vibrant blue eyes. He had a sharp chiseled jaw line. His build was muscular and looked rather impressive for his age. He stood with a soft grin across his lips. He wore navy blue dress slacks with a pale blue polo shirt neatly tucked in and secured in place with a shiny black leather belt. He took a step closer to Neal.

Neal held his hand out warning the man to stay back. "Who are you?"

"Relax, you're safe here." He edged his way towards the bed and eased down on the corner farthest from Neal. He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled back at Neal. "The dizziness you're feeling will go away after a while."

Neal frowned. "What did you do to me?"

"I only spiked your aggression response. It's a harmless drug, There are no long term side effects."

Neal felt his breath expel from his lungs in disgust. No long term effects? How could he say that? It had caused him to cut his anklet, something that would impact his future and his life forever. "What do you want from me?"

The man smiled. "I'm already getting what I want. You!"

Neal frowned. "You're Markus Dawson aren't you?"

He chuckled. "Well yes and no. Yes I did tell you that was my name, and no because I lied to you."

"Why do you want me?"

He stood to his feet and walked towards Neal. Neal took a step back away from him. He felt threatened. The man smiled, his blue eyes sparkled as the light form the window reflected in them. "Look around you Neal. You're not tied up; you're not locked inside this room. There's no tracking device strapped to you. And this obviously isn't a prison cell. You're not a prisoner. I've given you you're freedom."

Neal swallowed and his eyes trailed around the room. They met back with this man's gaze. "Who are you?"

He lifted his hand and gently placed it on Neal's shoulder. He smiled. "James. James Bennet. I'm your father."

Neal felt as if his heart had just stopped beating. His breathing stalled and his pulse leaped. His father? The only thing ne new about his father was he was a crooked cop, that he had committed murder. Or he was at least accused of it. But more than that, all those years ago he had abandoned him and his mother, left them alone to pick up the pieces of his destructive presence. He was the reason they were placed into WITSEC. And now he was there, standing before him with this grin on his face as if his presence was some sort of gift from god. As if nothing he had done or not done in the past mattered.

What did he expect from Neal? Neal's lips began to quiver from pain and anger. Two emotions that were like cold air and warm air mixing with one another creating a violent storm within him. He clenched his teeth and took two steps forward. His face was inches from James. "You think you're doing me a favor?"

James let his grin fade. "I'm giving you something you've always wanted, your freedom, and a family."

Neal let out a burst of laughter. "A family? You're kidding me right? You're not my family. You gave up that right a long time ago."

"What about you're freedom, is that not something you want?"

"I had my freedom." Neal shouted in anger. His voice softened. "I have a family, one that would never walk out on me."

"You've been living in that FBI prison for so long you don't know what you want."

"Oh and you do? Because you've known me for so long?"

"You're my son. Of course I know what's best for you."

"You don't know what you've done. I had a good life here. You took away my life a long time ago, and now you've taken it away again." Neal turned and looked out the window. "What about Alex? Where is she?"

"She's fine. I've already let her go. I only told you I would harm her to get you upset. That way the drug you touched on the envelope would have something to work against."

Neal licked his lips. He turned around to face James. "You've ruined everything for me." He began walking towards the door to leave.

"You can't just walk out on me. I'm your flesh and blood."

Neal smiled in annoyance. "You mean like you walked out on me?"

"Where will you go Neal? You can't go back to the FBI unless you're ready to go back to prison." James waited for Neal to respond but he didn't he just kept walking ignoring his father's attempts to reason with him. "Neal, son. We could be good together. Just the two of us. No one could stop us." He smiled.

Neal stopped. Slowly he turned around with a disgusted look in his eyes. "You did all of this for yourself didn't you. This had nothing to do with you wanting to help me. You just wanted to put my skills to use for you. I can't believe we're related." He spun on his heels and proceeded to the front door. He placed his hand on the door handle and began to twist it open.

"Neal, don't do this. You're bound by blood."

Neal smiled. He glanced back at James. "You're right, I am bound by blood. But not to you."


	6. Chapter 6 - Off the hook?

Thanks for the reviews. I am so happy you are enjoying the story. I know the last chapter was short but that's why I posted this update so quick. I might not get the next chapter up for a few days as life is super busy this week. But we will see what I can work in. Hope you enjoy.

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Chapter Six: Off the Hook?

Peter and John arrived back at home to an anxious Elizabeth and Carla.

"Did you find him?" Elizabeth asked impatiently as Peter walked in the front door. She looked as if she had been waiting by the front door since he left half an hour ago.

He shook his head with a disappointed expression. "No. We did discover why he was acting so crazy though. He had been drugged with something called Dextro. It increased the aggression in a person and eventually leaves the victim unconscious."

"Oh my goodness! Poor Neal." Carla placed her hand over her mouth. She felt helpless.

John sat down on the sofa next to Satchmo. "How are we going to find him?"

Peter pressed his lips together. "I don't think we can. We have to trust that when the drug wears off, he'll do the right thing and come back."

"Peter, Neal doesn't know you stalled the Marshall's. He's going to think they are looking for him." Elizabeth frowned. She knew Neal would never come back if he thought he was going back to prison. And he would never believe Peter would be willing to lie on his behalf. To lie for him despite the repercussion's it would have on his own life and career.

Peter looked down at the ground. He knew what she was implying because he feared the same thing. He feared Neal would not return. He feared he had not done enough to prove to Neal that he would do anything for him. To protect his own little brother. "I know. I just have to hope that he knows I would do whatever it takes to keep him out of jail. Maybe that'll be enough to bring him home."

"And if it's not?" John sounded deeply concerned.

"Then we will both be facing some serious consequences."

"But why? Neal was drugged; surely they will take that into account?" Carla sat down beside her husband on the sofa.

"Mom, that doesn't change the fact that I lied to them. When they discover I lied for Neal, any leniency they would have given will be gone. They'll throw the book at him, and me."

"Oh no. Neal please just come home. Trust Peter this one time." Elizabeth spoke so softly no one heard her. She felt a tear begin to form in her right eye. She tried to choke it back. She looked at the clock. It was almost seven. They had very little time remaining before the Marshall's showed up looking for Neal. She felt a pit in her stomach as she imagined them arresting her husband, and putting out a warrant for Neal's arrest. She couldn't take it. She spun around and bolted out the back door to their small quiet patio where she broke down into soft sobs.

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Neal walked outside if the elaborate luxurious building that housed the beautiful Penthouse Suite. He just continued to repeat his father's words in his head. "You're bound by blood."

"Bound by blood." He mused out loud in a low tone. Those words coming from his hypocrite father made his skin crawl. He was not bound to his father. What had he ever done for him? The only thing he had given Neal was pain and a reason to distrust him. Even calling him father left a bitter taste in his mouth like bile rising from his stomach.

The only blood he was bound to was the blood of his brother. He was the one person in his life that was always there for him, a pillar to make him strong. A voice of reason when indiscretion threatened to pervade. Someone willing to offer a loving rebuke when it was needed. Peter was everything Neal needed and more. He gave him the family he had always wanted.

But that was over now. Neal knew Peter would have already been contacted by the Marshalls over his cut anklet. He knew they would be looking for him. They would be like ants surrounding a piece of candy if he returned to his apartment. Most likely they would also be at Peters house. He needed to talk to Peter. He needed to tell Peter what had happened. If Peter knew the truth maybe that would help. But then again, it might not.

He began walking in the direction of his apartment. He decided if he could just get close enough to see how many Marshall's were there he might be able to sneak past them and find Peter. He hailed a taxi as he realized it would be dark soon with the sun getting lower and lower in the sky. He needed to get there as soon as he possibly could.

He asked the taxi driver to drop him two blocks from his apartment. It was safer to approach on foot. He paid the cab fee and exited the car. He stopped at a second hand clothing store on the corner of Wilson and Macklamore and found a light gray hooded sweatshirt. He slipped it over his shirt and pulled the hood over his head. He picked up a pair of non-prescription glasses on the counter as he paid out. He slipped them on.

As he grew closer to his apartment he dropped his head towards the ground and made sure his face was concealed by the hoodie and glasses. He was getting closer to his street. He paused just before he turned the corner. He felt apprehension and for a moment he wanted to turn the other way and run. He knew there would be police cars parked in front of June's house with dozens of officers roaming the street and house looking for any sign of where he might have gone. The image in his head made his heart quicken its pace. He swallowed and blinked.

He took a deep breath and took the first step that brought his body around the corner and face to face with fear. But the street was empty of police cars, there was no police anywhere. Not even a guard posted at the door. He looked up at the edge of his balcony and saw no sign of activity anywhere. He frowned. This made no sense. They should be surrounding the place looking for him or clues to where he was. Unless it was a trap and they were close by watching for him to return.

He took a step backwards. His eyes peered up through the black framed glasses at June's house. Swiftly he turned and disappeared around the corner. His feet picked up their pace and he sped down the sidewalk racing towards Peter's house. He wasn't planning on going to Peter's; he imagined it would be surrounded by police as well. But instinctively that's the direction he was moving. Unbeknown even to himself of that fact.

After several minutes he realized he was on Peter and El's street. His stride slowed to a casual pace. He turned down the alley just before their house and stood against a brick wall as he tried to figure out what he was going to do next. His head still ached and his throat was still slightly dry. A leftover from that nasty drug his own father had exposed him to.

He licked his lips and pulled the hood off of his head. He closed his eyes and his head tilted back against the brick wall. What was his next move? Where would he go from here? Where did he want to go? He wanted to talk to Peter and El. To apologize, to make everything go back to the way it once was. But there was no way that could happen now. Not after what he had done. Not after this.

Damn his father.

Suddenly he heard a soft sob from somewhere as it was carried with the gentle breeze in the evening air. His head lifted from the brick wall behind him and he tilted his head to listen cautiously. He heard it again. He swallowed and pushed his body away from the wall. There it was again. It was a woman crying. He moved towards the direction of the sound. It became louder as he walked through the alley and began moving down the backside of the homes. He stopped as he reached the location of where the sound was coming from. He looked up. It was Peter and El's house. Behind that gate was their patio. He listened closely as he stood just outside the fence.

It was El crying. He dropped his head and frowned. He knew he was the cause of her pain. He looked down the street both directions. No one was running up to stop him, to arrest him. He placed his hand on the latch to the gate and gently pushed it open.

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Elizabeth was devastated. At any moment her world would be changed forever. Hers and Peter's, and Neal's. There was nothing she could do to stop it. Suddenly she heard the gate behind her open. She spun around startled by the unexpected interruption. Her eyes trailed up slowly and they met with ravishing blue eyes. Eyes filled with tears. "Neal!" She spoke as she exhaled.

"I'm so sorry El." He felt tears flood his eyes. His attempts to stop them were in vain.

She could hear the sincerity in his voice; she also recognized the complete lack of hostility he carried earlier that morning. She quickly lunged towards him and wrapped her arms around him.

He mimicked her movement and his arms curled around her body and squeezed tightly. He buried his head in her shoulder and an uncontrollable sob burst forth. "I didn't mean it."

She felt her own tears fall from her eyes and soak his gray sweatshirt. She brought a hand up and gently placed it on the back of his head. "It's okay. I'm just glad you're okay."

They stood quietly in that comforting embrace. The embraced that filled them both with reassurance and security. Slowly she pulled back and she cradled his face between her hands. Her thumb wiped away a stray tear cascading down his cheek. She smiled. Her eye's brightened and sparkled beneath the moon light. "You're home, that's all that matters."

Neal looked down from her, almost ashamed to have her say those words to him. "I ruined everything."

"No sweetie, you didn't. You saved yourself, and Peter by coming home."

Neal frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Peter lied to the Marshalls when they called. He told them you were working undercover on a case and he forgot to submit the paperwork. If you hadn't come back tonight they would have arrested Peter for assisting you to escape."

Neal narrowed his eyes. "Peter lied for me?" His voice was riddled with surprise.

Elizabeth frowned. "Yes. Why are you so surprised about that? Peter would do anything for you Neal, you should know that by now. You're his little brother."

Neal felt a smile begin to tug at the corners of his mouth. "I would do anything for him too."

She reached down and took Neal's hand. "Peter is going to be so happy to see you." She pulled him behind her as she opened the back door to their house.

Peter was standing with his back to her and Neal. He was facing his mother and father on the sofa talking about possible scenarios that may play out over the next few days. He realized John and Carla both suddenly had a smile across their face. He frowned. This was one time smiling seemed completely inappropriate. He narrowed his eyes as he looked at them and realized they were looking past him. He slowly turned around and saw Elizabeth. Her eyes were brimming with happiness. Her smile spread from ear to ear, but then he glanced just past her shoulder and saw another smile that was more reluctant. It was Neal.

Peter reached out and gripped Neal by his sweatshirt and pulled him forward engulfing him in an enormous hug. He squeezed so hard it forced some air out of Neal's lungs. Neal tightened his grip around his big brother. "I'm sorry Peter, I wasn't myself. I never meant to hit you or run like that."

Peter chuckled. "I know kid. You were drugged."

Neal frowned and pulled back from Peter. He looked him in the eyes. "You know?"

"Yeah, it's my job to know." Peter smiled.

"Then you know about my father?"

Peter's smile dissolved. "You're father?"

"It was my father who drugged me."

"What? You're kidding right?" Peter sounded shocked and slightly disgusted that a father would be willing to put his own son through something so heinous.

"I wish I were. He just wanted to put me to work for his own benefit. He tried to play on my desire for a family."

John stood to his feet and frowned as he walked towards Neal. "A father never puts his own interest ahead of his child. Who does this idiot think he is?"

Neal smiled at the sound of irritation in John's voice. He sounded protective. He sounded ready to go to battle for Neal. Ready to defend him from the vile antics of the man that dared to call himself a father.

"You're not going to let this go are you Peter? He needs to face the consequences of his actions." John wrapped his arm around Neal's shoulder and gently squeezed in a way that gave a warning to anyone who dared to threaten Neal.

Peter looked at his father and smiled. He too noticed the sudden rise in fatherly instinct. "No dad. I don't plan on letting him off the hook."

Neal raised his eyebrows and looked at Peter. "What are you going to do?"

Peter smiled. "It's not about what I am going to do. It's about what we ar


End file.
